Sure, metal can certainly terrify listeners with occult imagery and sheer gore, but delving deep into one’s own personal neuroses can often take someone down a much darker path. Inexplicable sadness is often a much more relatable and ubiquitous demon than anything you’d see smeared across a Cannibal Corpse cover (not that there’s anything wrong with that). For that reason alone, it’s become a much more prevalent topic amongst death metal’s most notorious and now unjustly-reviled subgenre. You couldn’t have picked a better title for deathcore’s most anticipated EP of the year, and you probably couldn’t have picked a better batch of current bands to tackle the theme of depression either. Thy Art Is Murder, The Acacia Strain and Fit For An Autopsy are collectively as soul-bearing as they’ve ever been, and they’re still churning out brain-melting breakdowns in the process.

It’s honestly a wonder that I haven’t written about this album sooner. It contains everything I love, both within its music and along its meta-narrative. The Sky Moves Sideways was released three time: once in Europe, once in America and once as a remaster. Each album contains different versions of a proto-drone track, versions which are unique to it and were produced using an original 40 minute recording of a live band. It contains Gavin Harrison with Porcupine Tree working on early material (on the re-master), one of my all time favorite musicians. And, most of all, it’s the turning point between Porcupine Tree as just Steven Wilson and their conception as a band. Thus, it contains the psychedelia of his earlier works while still being recognizable as an album. It has a strange accessibility to it alongside some truly weird and disconcerting elements.

Been sat on this one for awhile now but finally, Hero In Error bring the riffs “The Hollow Truth”. Without holding up your first listen to this infectious beast of a track, let it be said that there are a plethora of talented individuals behind it. More names than you can shake sticks made of shit at. For further reading, riffs and role call, please find yourself over the jump and into the carnival below. Did I already say there are riffs?

Fucking hardcore. It’s great. It’s crunchy, chaotic, and beautifully ugly. It’s ready to knock out your teeth with one well-aimed fist and send you sprawling into a bloody heap on the ground. You just can’t beat the likes of Converge, Trap Them, or Great American Ghost; they’re just too good at what they do. But when I come across a hardcore band that can go toe-to-toe with any of those latter bands, I pay attention. Dearborn’s Hollow Earth is one of these bands, with a sound that is surprisingly singular in a scene full of bands that can sometimes lack a real musical identity, and a host of incredibly talented musicians behind it all.